RYKER
Growing up, I was always told that I had my father’s attitude.
I took it as a privilege, a good thing, to be my father’s son heart and soul. Rowan was more like my mother, a peacemaker.
But getting older, I take it as an insult of the highest order to be likened to this demon seated before .
I knew I was a prick, not a soulless one. Alpha Corvin has no soul, he had lost it a long ti ago in place of power.
"Sit down, Ryker." He commanded, his voice still carrying the hoarse edge of rage from earlier, like embers that hadn’t quite died out.
Without uttering a word, I sat down opposite him. I needed to look him eye to eye when he reprimanded , to let him know that I wasn’t scared of him or his power.
I glared at him, placing my hands on the table with my fists curled into balls. It was a power move he had taught Rowan and I, one to show your opponent that you were ready to strike back.
If you kept your hands down it showed weakness, that you were relaxed. He glanced at my hands on the table and let out a half chuckle, placing his own hands flat against the surface, fingers spread wide and deliberate.
That was another power move. To show I was beneath him.
"I can see you have your mouth and bruises stitched up," he spoke, his eyes holding mine without blinking.
I didn’t flinch. "Yes," I simply replied, my expression deadpan.
"Uhmmm." He exhaled slowly, like he was asuring out his patience before spending it. "That stunt you pulled today at the garden should never repeat itself again."
"It would, if you decide to punish innocent won like that just so you can exert your dominance."
His brows furrowed, a muscle ticking along his jaw. "She is to be mated to and she defied . I needed to teach her discipline. But I owe you no explanation."
"No, you don’t, and I owe you no compliance." I retorted.
"Why do you even care?" He asked, his fist curling back into a ball, the flatness gone. I knew I was already pushing his buttons, testing the edges of his patience. "You were also the one who verbally insulted her to by, or are you just doing it to go against ?"
Why do I even care?
The question echoed back in my head. I had seen him punish people before. Since my mom died, he had done it ever so often, like sothing in him had been uncaged the mont she took her last breath.
It was like her death exposed his cruel and wicked side. She had been the only restraint he had, even publicly. Her death just made it plain for everyone to see.
But that still didn’t answer why I cared. I could ponder about that later. For now, I needed to show no emotion, no sign of weakness.
"What do you think, old man?" It wasn’t a question, even though it sounded like one. "I did it to go against you, because I don’t stand for what you stand for."
"Ryker." He exhaled, leaning forward slightly, elbows pressing into the table. "I have put up with your excesses, your insolent behavior. Cleaned up your ss publicly. I am still the one stopping your enemies from marching in here and trampling you."
"Do you need a best dad dal for that?" I cut him off and he glared at , sothing cold and sharp moving behind his eyes.
"I see there is no reasoning with you." He didn’t sound defeated. If anything, he sounded like his resolve had just hardened.
"The only reasoning there would be is when you admit what you did."
"What did I do?"
My fists curled tighter, almost drawing blood from how hard I clenched them. "You killed her," I snarled at him.
Then ca the silence that always followed any discussion about her. We stared at each other, dead in the eyes, neither of us moving.
I could see it happening, the slow burn in his gaze, his irises shifting toward gold like sothing primal in him was stirring, threatening to rise to the surface. Then, almost like a switch had been flipped, he exhaled. Long and controlled. He uncurled his fists and leaned back into his chair, reclaiming his composure like it was sothing he could just pick back up off the floor.
"One day you will understand," his voice was lower now, stripped of its usual authority.
"Understand what exactly?"
"Why I had to do what I did," he said softly.
"I will never understand." I leaned in. "I will never forgive you for what you did because of your..."
"It was never because of Freya." He cut through mid-sentence.
Freya.
That na. I had detested it, abhorred it, loathed it with every fiber of sothing I didn’t even know I still had.
It sat in my chest like a splinter that had never been properly removed, working its way deeper every ti soone said it out loud.
My father had changed the day she entered their lives and I had watched it happen in real ti, slow enough to be maddening, fast enough to be irreversible.
I shrugged the thought away before it could sink its teeth further into .
"Is there a reason for this eting," I said, my voice flat, "or did you just want to gloat about my defiance? Because you already beat the crap out of today. I would think that was enough satisfaction for one evening."
He studied for a long mont, fingers tapping once against the mahogany before going still.
"Since you have decided that responsibility is beneath you and that acting like a tyrant is the hill you want to die on," he began, his tone shifting into the voice he used when he had already made a decision and was simply informing you of it.
"I will be removing every property from your na. Everything. Including what your mother left for you."
The words landed differently than I expected. Not like a slap, more like a slow puncture, the kind you don’t feel until the air is already gone.
"You can’t do that," I said.
"I can." He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. "I will, until you show that you are capable of being what this pack needs. Settle down, get married and be what your brother is becoming."
"So that’s what this is about." I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Rowan."
"It is about legacy," he corrected, his eyes never leaving mine. "Which is why Amaris is here. Should you or your brother ever decide to throw away everything I have built, I will have my replacent ready. An heir that I can mold without the complications of a son who resents ."
I stared at him.
"So she is just here to build you a spare." I said it slowly, letting each word sit in the air between us.
He was quiet for a beat. His chin lifted slightly. "Yes. She will be rewarded and returned to her pack when it is done."
I held his gaze for a long mont. Long enough that the silence beca its own kind of answer.
"You are a barbarian," I said, rising from my chair. My voice was calm. Steady. The kind of calm that had nothing to do with peace and everything to do with a decision already being made sowhere deep and quiet inside . "You will not control my life. Not this one."
I didn’t wait for his response.
I turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind without slamming it, because slamming it would have given him sothing. A reaction. Proof that he had gotten under my skin.
I wouldn’t give him that.
I walked it slowly with my hands loose at my sides.
He wanted to strip everything from . The properties, the na, the leverage. He wanted to reduce to nothing so he could rebuild into sothing obedient and useful.
He had just shown exactly how far he was willing to go.
I exhaled through my nose.
He was pushing his hand, which ant I had to hasten mine. The plan that had been sitting in the back of my mind, patient and waiting, needed to move faster now.
Because by the end of the year, I would have had my father buried six feet below.
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